Lions don't cry
by spicybleachedhead
Summary: Wrong feelings aimed at the wrongest of things happen to dominate Squall. This is the story of the one who needed to realize that before it was too late. WARNING: yaoi-themed -don't like it, don't waste your time


**Okay, so, get out. Yes. Don't read this, read its remake instead: just paste "/s/7759660/1/" on your browser's adress right next to "fanfiction. net/"**

anyway, if you want to go on and read this crap, just don't tell me I didn't warn you!

* * *

**Lions don't cry**

_**-reality breakthough-**_

_What is this feeling...?_

_One would call it weird, irrational._

_I would call it stupid._

_I would punch myself for every time I remembered it..._

_But if I did, I think I might have died a long time ago._

_That is... if I wasn't dying already._

_Slowly withering... from the inside._

_It's so stupid._

Squall was at his bedroom, lying his head on a big pillow over the floor. He needed the silence, no matter how much it made him remember of painful things. He was already addicted to it.

So much time hiding it. So much time pretending it was a lie.

And it was all to have everything blowing up inside him in the end. It hurt too bad.

Yet, he did not want to stop suffering, as long as it meant not risking his own life.

But then again, his life was not exactly at stake.

The sun rose and brought light to Squall's room. Every memory of the past night passed as a blur, and although it had been very real, no reminiscence of the pain lasted. It was just another day, like any other. He would take a nice shower, go to the cafeteria have breakfast and resume his duties like he had been the past few days.

Except...

Nothing at all, there was nothing at all to worry about aside from his work as the Garden commander. And after that he would go to the outskirts to serve as support for the SeeD's who worked as the junior classmen's field training instructors.

He had volunteered in that area because there had been a shortage of available SeeD's for the job two years before. Then, after six months the problem had been solved, Squall had decided to stay in the job indefinitely. The reasons he convinced himself of always involved thinking, _because I like it and I want to do it of my own free will._ Still, that was not the real reason and he knew it.

And that other reason was so stupid he considered several times suicide.

Exactly eighteen moths before, two SeeD's Squall was familiar with had joined the field training tutoring team: Nida and Zell. It all happened on a windy day when Squall was sitting alone on the edge of a huge rock near Fire Cavern, staring off into the grey clouds of an imminent fall.

While Nida was preparing an incoming simulation that greatly counted for the students' final grades, Zell noticed Squall being mentally outside of that world. It was like he did not belong there, but elsewhere. Somewhere things made less sense, and no one had to force themselves into crowds as though as they were not individuals and unique.

He was bound by the thrill of the unknown. Something he would never really experience as long as he lived in that world.

And so Zell came to him, sat by him and began staring off just like he was. Squall became self-conscious and took a side glance at his friend. What was he doing?

"You know, the clouds look very pretty when you really pay attention to them," suddenly commented Zell, with his eyes fixed on the so far away silver sky, painted with seven shades of grey that overlaid resulting in a beautiful dance of pigments. "Sometimes... I just look up at you and feel the need to try to be as good as you, you know?"

"I'm not better than anyone," Squall stated, fully convinced of those words, especially in that situation — when he was being praised for doing nothing special.

"And during those times, I realize just how much we're different in every aspect. Maybe that's the fun in life: each person being different and unique, no matter how much you stand out and are considered weird."

And those words changed Squall's life forever. He realized after a few months that the fact that he stood out often made him less comfortable with certain aspects of normal social behavior. People usually joked a lot, talked out loud, let themselves blend in the group. He, however, was the quiet type, who was always deep in thought instead of gossiping, and he preferred to work alone. But those words that came from Zell's mouth... They slowly made Squall less distant from people other than his friends, as if it was okay for him to be himself instead of wearing a mask of impassiveness all the time.

However, a couple of months away from the present, Squall witnessed that fated conversation between Rinoa and Selphie about men that he sometimes wished he had never heard.

"Do you really think Irvine was a good choice of boyfriend?" Rinoa asked.

"Of course! Irvy is really funny AND handsome!"

"Well, I can't deny that. But he _is_ the philander."

"Hmm, I guess he lacks some cute parts," Selphie agreed.

"At least he loves you back. I mean, I felt so bad about that girl with a pigtail— the one that likes Zell, you know?"

"Why, what happened?"

"Wow, my days as a library lover actually made me more sociable," Rinoa noticed with an amused tone to her voice, "Anyway, they say she confessed to him, but was rejected."

At that moment, Squall, who was just behind the other side of the bookcase from where the two girls were talking next to, clang closer to them, trying to listen in more — something he rarely did, but made an exception because for some reason his curiosity was very high that day.

"Zell's gay!"

"No! I never said that," corrected Rinoa, "He rejected her because he likes someone else, or so her friend told me."

"Poor thing. I cheered so much for her."

"I know, right? Some evil insensitive guys even dared her to call Zell 'hot tattooed guy' on yesterday's party. Just imagining the scene makes me want to cheerfully beat those inferior-beings-who-like-to-joke around-with-a-woman's-feelings to death."

At that moment, something really not right entered Squall's mind. The scene about the girl with a pigtail in his imagination had been exchanged by another where _he_ called Zell 'hot tattooed guy'.

It was just plain wrong.

He could not stop thinking about that the whole week. And whenever Zell appeared near him, he would feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment of his imagination. His heart would skip a few beats and pulse intensively even whenever anyone said 'Zell' loud enough for him to hear.

It was so stupid. And he could not define that feeling.

At least not until he read a novel that explained it all. It was a very basic story about some teenage guy who met this girl, but she wanted to be with his archenemy for life or something. Some minor detail about supernatural stuff was present, but passed unnoticed or ignored by Squall. But the point is, when he read a part about the girl being terribly ill, just like he was feeling, she then related it to something so cheesy it made Squall almost vomit.

It was so stupid he could not even _think_ of the word.

And so, Squall was counting his money while he waited in line for his turn to buy his lunch. He had just enough to buy himself that expensive chocolate bar imported from Trabia and still have a decent meal. No, he was not going to give it to anybody, he was going to eat it all — no matter how big that thing was. It was chocolate. And when he finally did buy it, he did his best not to be followed on his way back to his dorm room.

And he failed miserably.

"Hi, Squall," Quistis called from behind him, even though he had checked multiple times for any unwanted followers. It seemed people liked to follow him around a lot, for no apparent good reason. "Don't you want to share?"

"What?"

"That awfully huge chocolate bar you just bought." He was sure he had hidden it well under his coat, how come she noticed? "I'll tell Selphie we can have tea ready and—"

"No, thanks, I'll eat it myself." He knew Quistis was lying. She knew him too well, and offering such an astronomic possibility of a tea party to occur was so not like her.

"Say, Squall, why do you need so much chocolate?"

"I don't. It's good to replenish energies for field tutoring."

"_Expensive_ chocolate?"

"It's better and melts less."

"Thus rising the endorphin," she concluded, nodding to her own mysterious thoughts, "Just remember, you don't want to get fat eating all of that at once. And if there's something bugging you... please tell me, and I'll help you."

"Whatever," they said in unison, though Quistis did so in a manly falsetto, trying to sound like Squall. He just crossed his arms and looked away, while she turned and left to the opposite direction to where he was heading to.

Maybe he should stop being so predictable.

Quistis had been too weird asking all that stuff without any purpose. He could not possibly read minds, and reading people's behavior was the last thing he could do in his obvious lack of social knowledge. So he just decided to ignore what had just happened.

He needed to put that chocolate bar in his refrigerator after all.

* * *

It snowed. His window sight was blurred and he woke up feeling as cold as he had ever felt. Nevertheless, he could not withstand sleeping and having those horrible dreams about Zell, most of which would end up with a very small distance between lips. It was time for dinner anyway; meaning he had wasted his entire noon and afternoon sleeping — which usually was a bad sign.

What happened next would have him wishing it never did, and yet would make him wishing for it to happen over and over again. He found a note paper on his coffee table saying with a scribbled handwriting:

"_S'up, Squall! Rinoa said she wanted you to talk with her. I don't know what that's all about, but she seemed pretty down. Anyways, I heard you have a big stock of chocolate — care for sharing?_

_Zell_

_PS: By the way, sorry for barging in. The door was open and you were sleeping."_

Well, maybe seeing a note was not much of a turn on. But it did make him go numb about the fact that Zell had walked in his dorm room without his knowledge. He tried his best at mentally denying Zell the whole bar, but he knew that it was a lost battle: he had already given it up by the time he finished reading the note.

And, consequently, it took quite some time for him to find his bearings and realize the main purpose of the note.

Rinoa.

What was it she wanted?

Later on, when he met with her, she glanced at his general direction and resumed staring at the black skies from which thousands of snowflakes fell gently. They were at the quad, sitting on the edge of the stage, about three feet distant from each other, both staring at the night sky.

And it was really cold.

Squall did not really care about the silence. He actually enjoyed it to a certain extent — it did not force him to fulfill expectations like most people did when they talked to him. Yet, it seemed impolite of him not to ask Rinoa what it was that she wanted to talk about.

"What is it?"

Only then she looked at him directly. After a few more moments of silence, she said:

"Nothing really."

_Huh—?_ he thought.

"I wanted to know how you were doing."

"So," Squall began to say, trying to fit the missing pieces of the puzzle, "What did Quistis say about me?"

"Just that you don't want to share expensive chocolate."

"..."

"You know, I... noticed something... about you."

And then the silence came again. He was afraid to ask. He knew, however, that no good would come from the knowledge.

She said it anyway.

"You've been staring a lot at Zell lately."

Had he been that obvious...?

"No, I haven't." A smooth, trained and easy lie.

"Yeah, I know better." She giggled lightly.

"What, you called me here to insult me?"

"When did I insult you, or rather, how did I insult you, Squall?"

No answer could be formed inside his brain at that moment, so she continued:

"He IS pretty, though."

"...Whatever."

"And he IS a nice fellow. I'm sure he'd be a good option for anyone."

"...None of my business."

"Except for you."

He looked up instantly. By pure reflex he looked perplexed, no matter how much training he had forced upon himself to look indifferent about anything related to Zell when around other people. It felt just plain astonishing that such a truth had to be laid flat on the table for him to see it clearly enough.

And as he had many times before, he defined it stupid.

It was just plain stupid that he was feeling all of that.

"Please, don't look so sad," said Rinoa while looking at him in the eyes. Only then he noticed they were burning hot. Probably red.

But no tear ever fell from them.

"Squall, listen to me," she spoke again, almost crying herself, "He's probably never going to love you back. I wish he could, I truly wish so. But he just _won't._ It's not his fault he likes girls best. It's not his fault for being so charming for you. You have to move on. Please," and then tears were crossing her cheeks, making her shiver with cold while she begged with a failing voice, "Move on before it's too late...!"

He had gone paler than he usually were in the midst of her plea. So many conflicting ideas suddenly running free inside his mind, so many things he never wanted to come out suddenly reaching his heart, and so many hidden pieces of hope he never imagined existing suddenly shattering his sense of reality. One could not suffer all of that and stay sane for long.

Yet surprisingly, he did. He shoved it all away somewhere in the corner and found his cool amidst the chaos of emotions that then ran free.

And the truth of it all hurt the most.

"It's already too late, Rinoa."

He stood. She looked up.

He walked away. She stood.

A single snowflake found its way to Squall's left cheekbone, melted and ran down his face, crying a single tear he did not have to shed.

And all Rinoa could think of, which Squall would never know of, was:

_I wish you may find happiness somewhere, Squall. I wish I could give it to you. I wish your world wasn't so sad. I wish the world was fair!_

She crouched on the snow-wet ground and cried as hard as her lungs would allow her to. She cried hard as she could in an attempt to be able to cry for Squall — to cry away all the tears that would never fall from his eyes.

After all, lions don't cry.

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A/N: I cried without tears too. If reference is needed, I based this on the movie: "Rules of Attraction"  
...And on some other things... like real life.

And, hey, I've been getting a lot if visitors (I can SEE youuuuu~~), so _do_ leave a review, ok? pretty plz?

EDIT: I changed a couple words here and there (nothing meaningful, just wrong prepositions), but what I want to say is not about that. I'm gonna make a story, another one, that's based on the facts that occur in this one. Just hope it works out.


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